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She finds out what Summerland Academy is all about.
Time on the dance floor before it got packed was a precious commodity, not to be wasted in the least bit. For one part it was fun, but for another it began to make an impression on the young folks around the club. Some would mark her as well on her way to being drunk and thus an easy target, some would be genuinely interested, and the rest would have a rush of hormones edging them towards arousal and lowering their own guard. Her dances were carefully practiced to maximize sensuality and the occasional flare of the dress to show off the lavender lace panties underneath.
Slowly she worked her way through the drink, taking her time so as to not have the leave the dance floor that quickly. Every time she looked up, Camille made a quick scan of the audience, watching it grow and watching the reactions she was getting. With a quick toss of her head, she finished off the drink and stepped off of the dance floor making a beeline straight for the bar. The dancing had given her a lovely sheen of sweat, making the light dance sparkle even more off the lightly glittered skin of her chest.
At the bar she finally had her first approach, a young man dressed in black jeans and an Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt. Inwardly she smiled, not necessarily what you expected in this sort of club but he could also be a guy who just appreciated how Goth girls dressed. She'd met plenty of those and generally liked them, at least for the little bit of time that she spent with them.
"Buy you a refill?" He asked politely enough.
Her purple lips slowly smiled, "sure. It's a green fairie." Lips grew a little more into the smile as she saw the shocked look on his face, most likely at the strength of the drink. To his credit though it didn't stop him from getting the bartender and ordering her the refill.
Once the order was placed he turned his attention back to her, "I'm Steve."
"Pleasure to meet you Steve, I'm Camille," she slightly slurred her name on purpose and saw a little note of glee in his eyes. It gave her a little chill down her spine, even after all of these decades she still got a thrill when the hunt started in earnest. The feeling was almost as addictive as the stealing of energy. "Come here often?" she purred to him.
"First time, friend of mine suggested I check this place out. Kinda was curious about Goths, he claimed that I seemed to be taking a turn towards them and said this might be a good place to start. So yeah, here I am," he offered a little nervous smile. "You?"
"Oh I'm a regular, like the atmosphere here," when the drink arrived she leaned over and wrapped her fingers around it, bringing it up to take a sip. Over the rim of the glass she eyed him, watching him take a large gulp of his drink and smiling lightly to herself. 'The game is afoot' she told herself. "Care to join me on the dance floor?"
When he nodded lightly, she gently grabbed him by the forearm and guided him towards the dance floor, pulling him to an open spot along a side. She took the lead in the dance, betting he would be more comfortable with it, and knowing few men could resist having a woman grinding up against them. It was a favorite tactic of hers, easy to pull off, looked normal, and highly effective.
Using him like she would a pole, Camille pressed her backside against him and began to gently grind her entire back against the front of his body. Slowly she leaned herself forwards, placing more pressure with her rear against the bulge in his jeans, rubbing herself lightly against it. She could feel the stiff shaft through their clothes and maneuvered so that the crease of her rear was rubbing over it. Leaning forwards, she placed her hands on the floor and did her own imitation of twerking against him. Every few moments she would glance back to look at his face, then grin to herself and go back to enjoying the dance.
Careful to not work him up too much, she made sure to occasionally put some space between him and her.